Medical complications
by Binary
Summary: There's a new arrival at the 4077th and she already knows one of the surgeons rather well...PLEASE R&R if only to prove someone is reading this! Thank you
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: MASH ain't mine, but I sure do wish it were…_

**Medical Complications**

'MASH 4077th: Best Care Anywhere' said the sign beside the dusty, potholed road my jeep had been driving along for what seemed like days. I found that hard to believe – probably not even better care than the 121st evac, I thought, let along Tokyo General. I'd served at both, but was still young enough and stupid enough to think I knew it all. That was what had taken me to a MASH unit in the first place – arguing with the Head Nurse once too often.

The driver brought the jeep to a halt outside what seemed to be the biggest tent in the untidy compound. The side flaps were down so I couldn't see in, but a sign on the door said 'The Swamp'. It seemed an unlikely name to me, but before I could comment on it the door opened and a scruffy guy wearing a purple dressing-gown over his fatigue pants came out. As soon as he saw me, he switched on a smile and hurried over, extending a hand. "Hi! You must be the new nurse. Welcome aboard, I'm Captain Pierce, Chief Surgeon, raconteur and nurse-lover, but most folks round here call me Hawkeye." I shook his hand, politely, and let him help me out of the jeep, but I had already worked out why his tent was called 'The Swamp': he was obviously a complete reptile.

"Captain," I said, giving him a cool nod, "I'm Lieutenant Emma Brown. Where can I find your commanding officer?"

"Colonel Potter," he said, maintaining the smile, "He'll be in his office. I'll be happy to show you right to his door. And then after that I could show you to the nurses' tent."

Yes, he _would_ know where the nurses' tent was, I thought. "Thanks, but if you could just point the way, I'm sure I'll manage," I said.

"Hey, Hawkeye – new nurse on the block?" said a female voice behind me, and I turned to find a plump, pleasant-faced young woman with Lieutenant's bars on her jacket coming toward us. "Hi, I'm Kellye, welcome to the 4077th," she said, her smile looking far more sincere than Pierce's had, "You'll be bunking in our tent, I'll show you where that is once you've reported in."

We left Captain Pierce standing in the dust, and Kellye took me through to meet our CO; the Head Nurse, Major Houlihan; and the company clerk, name of Maxwell Klinger. First impressions? Potter – crusty but kindly; Houlihan – briskly efficient, unlikely to take kindly to insubordination; Klinger – an artful dodger, but probably the kind of guy it's good to get on the right side of. I suspected there was very little he didn't know about the camp, and even less in the way of supplies that he couldn't lay his hands on for the right price.

Once I'd found my bunk – top one, right hand side of the tent – and unpacked the few belongings I needed for day-to-day use, Kellye and the two of the other nurses took me over to the Mess Tent for lunch. 'Saving the worst till last' they said, and they weren't kidding – the food was just awful, and the coffee not much better. Still, joking about the stuff helped to break the ice, and we were all giggling about some quip Baker had made about the bacon when the door opened and Captain Pierce came in, accompanied by another man who, Kellye told me, was Doctor Hunnicutt. "Usually known as BJ," said Baker, "He's a nice guy. A good doctor, and he definitely _won't _make any passes at you."

Lacey nodded, explaining: "He's got a wife and kid back home in San Francisco. Bores me to tears sometimes to hear him go on about them, but at least he keeps his hands to himself."

"Unlike dear Hawkeye," said Baker, rolling her eyes, and confirming that my initial suspicion of the Captain had been well founded.

The door opened again and Kellye opened her mouth to tell me who had just come in, but I put a hand on her arm and said: "I know."

She looked startled. "You know Major Winchester?"

"Yes," I said, staring across the tent and wondering whether I wanted him to notice me or not. Charles Emerson Winchester. I'd never thought to see him again, certainly not dressed in fatigues in a MASH unit mess tent. "I knew him in Tokyo," I said to Kellye, knowing I was blushing and hoping she wouldn't notice.

I'd known him in Tokyo alright. Before I got sent off to the 121st, Charles Winchester and I had been lovers.

-

Oh, don't get me wrong, I don't mean that I'd been in love with him, or he with me. But we'd flirted in the Operating Room on my first day in the Hospital, met for dinner the second night, and by the third had discovered a shared love of music, wine and literature, as well as, yes, an abundance of mutual desire, which had not exactly gone to waste.

Now here we both were at the same MASH unit, and I sipped my coffee while I watched Charles collect his lunch and saunter across to slide into a seat opposite the two Captains, which surprised me a little. It surprised me even more when he made some remark that set all three of them laughing. Another man, a black sweater under his fatigues, sat down with them just then, and I noticed his crucifix just as Baker said: "That's Father Mulcahy with them. He's just as decent a guy as you'd expect."

"But watch out for his left hook," added Kellye, giggling.

"Sounds like there's a story behind that," I said.

"Uh-huh. Tell you what – we'll tell you _that_ story if you tell us yours!"

"Mine?"

"Yeah – you know – you and the Major?" Lacey prompted, with a nudge and a smirk.

"Nothing to tell," I said, much too quickly, though the three of them just threw me skeptical looks and didn't press it, which I appreciated.

"Oh well, probably just as well. I'm due in Post-op in ten minutes," said Baker, getting to her feet.

"And I've got a pile of laundry to sort out," said Kellye.

"I need to get _myself_ sorted out," I said, standing up with them, "Any chance I can grab a shower, do you think?"

"Sure. I'll show you where they are," said Lacey.

We made for the door, and I took another look over my shoulder toward Charles. This time he happened to be looking in my direction, and I gave him a big grin and a wink. He looked astounded, and his food dropped right off of his fork as he stared, but after a moment or two he returned the smile, and I exited the tent with the others.

-

We'd only made it halfway across the compound when the PA system crackled to life. "Attention! Attention! Incoming wounded!" it squawked, as an elderly bus and three ambulances rounded the corner and jolted to a halt right in front of us, throwing up dust and almost drowning out the noise of the helicopter that flew overhead, making for the low hill just outside the camp.

"Come on!" Kellye yelled to me, running to the back of the nearest ambulance. I ran with her, and I wasn't the only one. People seemed to be dashing from all over: orderlies and corpsmen, nurses and doctors. Doctor Hunnicutt climbed into the ambulance in front of me and was already diagnosing even as the first patient was being stretchered out of it. I wasn't entirely sure what I should be doing, so I looked around for Major Houlihan who, to my amazement, seemed to be doing triage.

"Major? Major, I just got here this morning, I don't…"

She looked up for the briefest of moments, then returned her attention to the boy on the stretcher beside her. "Shoulder wound, he's a little shocky but he can wait," she said to the nurse opposite. She stood up and returned her attention to me. "Brown. You're an OR nurse, right?"

A nod.

"Go scrub, you can assist Doctor Winchester. _Captain!_" She hurried off toward Captain Pierce and I made my way through the ambulances and litters to the scrub room.

-

The atmosphere in OR was… frenetic. I was used to there being one operating table in one quiet room, but this… There was chatter, people scurrying in and out, and barely room to move more than a couple inches without bumping into another nurse or the surgeon behind you. I took a couple of deep breaths and focused on the surgical instruments on the tray in front of me. At least they were familiar!

"So, Lieutenant, getting a strange sense of _déjà vu_?" The voice was familiar too, as were the blue eyes that twinkled down at me over the surgical mask.

"I am now," I replied, feeling as though he had lifted me out of quicksand and put me down on firm ground. This was what I'd trained for, what I knew. I already had the scalpel in my hand ready by the time Charles requested it.

It seemed strange though to hear the Doctors trading quips and insults. Even Charles joined in, giving as good as he got. I guess it was a way of coping, and certainly the Colonel seemed inclined to let it ride (even adding his own two cents worth from time to time), so I kept quiet and just got on with handing Charles the instruments he needed.

When Captain Pierce burst into song though I had to say something. I mean, how tasteless is that? I couldn't believe anyone could be that insensitive, but there he stood, looking down at his patient, scalpel in hand, and squawking a rendition of 'I've got you under my skin' that just about made my ears bleed.

I glanced up at Charles, who was visibly wincing behind his surgical mask. "Will you tell him he's flat, or shall I?" I said, loudly enough so that Pierce would hear me.

The Captain, of course, just took that as his cue to 'sing' (if I can call that off-key noise 'singing') more loudly.

Charles shook his head. "Just try to ignore him, Lieutenant, anything else merely encourages him." With a last glare in Pierce's direction, he returned his attention to the young man on the operating table and held out his hand saying: "Retractor."

-

It was dark when we finally got the last patient despatched to Post-Op, and I was the last out of OR. While I was looking around to get my bearings, a familiar voice said: "May I walk you home?"

I looked up, found Charles standing just a few yards away, and smiled. "You mean you're not going to call a cab for me?"

"Can't even manage a jeep around here without signing it out in triplicate," he said, taking my arm and guiding me past the mess tent. "I can offer you a half-decent dinner though, if you don't mind your chicken coming from a can? Before you ask, my two cretinous tentmates have adjourned to the Officers' Club, they're not likely to be back for some time."

"Has to be better than what's on offer in there," I said, jerking my head in the direction of the mess tent, "God, it smells awful, what the hell is that?"

"I've found it's better not to ask," said Charles, holding open the door to the Swamp and ushering me inside. "Here we are, and I can but apologize for the state of the place. Believe me, I have asked – repeatedly – to be assigned to separate quarters but…" He threw out his arms in a gesture of helplessness, before offering me a seat next to a relatively neat desk that I knew had to be his. Even counting the empty bunk, it was the tidiest corner of the tent.

"Let me guess," I said, sitting down and resting an elbow on the desk, "I know this must be your cot. The Still – that is a Still, isn't it? – has to be Captain Pierce's, yes?"

"Yes, though Hunnicutt is happy to help him both supply it and drain it." Charles opened his footlocker and removed several cans of food, a bottle of wine, and two glasses, which he placed on the desk by my elbow.

I pointed. "So I'm guessing that's Pierce's corner, and that's BJ's, right?"

"Correct. Though I would hazard that the photo of wife and baby next to Hunnicutt's bunk gave you a bit of a clue?"

"Well… maybe a teeny hint," I admitted, taking a glass of wine from him and gently touching it to the one he was holding. "To civilization," I offered.

"I will drink to that," he said, duly doing so.

"Charles," I said, finally getting the chance to ask him the question that had been burning me for the entire day, "What the hell are you doing here?"

While we ate, we swapped stories of how we had each gotten to the 4077th – Charles with his unhappy Colonel, me with my angry Head Nurse – and filled each other in on what had been happening with our lives. He'd changed, I realized, in the time since I had last seen him. I couldn't quite define it, but it seemed to me that he was… a little more comfortable perhaps about admitting to having feelings?

"You know, you surprised me in there today," I told him, draining the last of my wine and rolling the glass between my palms.

"Oh?"

"You were a wonderful surgeon back in Tokyo, but what I saw you do today… it was just amazing. The way you've adapted to the pace here, without compromising your skill – I thought it was really impressive."

"Why, thank you." He gave me one of his quizzical looks, as though he couldn't quite figure out whether I was fishing for some favor or compliment myself. I wasn't, actually, but he decided, I guess, to play it safe by replying: "You did pretty well yourself today. I especially liked the way you reacted to Captain Pierce's – uh – solo performance."

I put down my glass, pulled a face and stuck my fingers into my ears, making Charles laugh. And I laughed too, for a moment, until I locked gazes with him, and realized what was happening. Again. I sobered, and sat back, which made him stop laughing too. "Charles, is this going to get complicated?" I asked, quietly.

"I don't see why it should," he said, leaning toward me from his seat on the edge of his bunk and gazing at me with those beautiful baby-blue eyes. He leaned forward and kissed me, and after a moment I kissed back, moving from the chair onto the bunk beside him so that we could get our arms around each other. "See," murmured Charles. He pulled away momentarily to run his thumb lightly over my lips, "Not complicated at all…"

**To be continued (probably on AdultFFdotNET, the way it's going!)**


	2. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**(A/N: You can read this chapter without seeing Chapter 2, which is pretty much PWP. But if you want the unexpurgated version, its at tv(dot)adultfanfiction(dot)net/story(dot)php?no600005303&chapter1) **

"Brown!"

Major Houlihan's voice. I already recognized it, even after just a couple days. I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the compound and looked around. She was just exiting her tent, armed with a clipboard. "Major?"

"I've been talking to Major Winchester," she began, and I automatically opened my mouth to form a denial of anything he might have said, but she continued, smoothly, "And I've arranged for him to give you triage training this afternoon, when you finish your shift in Post-op. Report to him in OR at sixteen-hundred."

"Yes, ma'am."

I relieved Baker in Post-op, and as we did the handover I asked her why we were expected to do triage. "Isn't that what the doctors are supposed to do?"

"Sure," she said, "And that's what used to happen. But when there are waves of casualties coming in, and every second counting, it really helps save time. Gives us more responsibility too, which is kinda encouraging, ya know?"

I nodded, while she scribbled her signature at the bottom of the handover notes and passed them to me.

"S'funny," she added, "You'd think Hawkeye would have been first in line to tell us what we needed to know, given he makes such great show of being supportive and all, but when Major Houlihan came up with the idea, it was Doctor Winchester who came through for us. He's the one who taught us all about triage. Hawkeye and BJ behaved like a couple of clowns, and crashed the class to make a nuisance of themselves."

Somehow, that didn't surprise me. "So does Major Winchester do all the triage training then?"

"You betcha boots. Major Houlihan won't let the other two anywhere near it, and I don't blame her. Got yours scheduled already?"

"Right after I finish in here. Anything I should revise before I go?"

"Nah. You'll be fine." She gave me a wink. "Besides, I have a feeling he'll go easy on _you_."

"Don't see why he should," I muttered, going hot.

But she was already halfway down the ward, out of earshot.

* * *

I stared down at Sergeant Klinger, who was lying on one of the mess tent tables, pretending to be a casualty. He'd used what looked like mascara and red lipstick – wonder who he'd borrowed them from? – to paint a large cut and bruise on his forehead, and he gave a theatrical moan as I examined it. "Okay, cut and contusion," I began, conscious of Charles' attentive gaze from the opposite side of the table.

"Hey, miss, are you coming to the dance this evening?" said Klinger, grabbing my arm.

I pushed his hand aside. "Confused," I added to my diagnosis, "Which indicates he's concussed. Um… send him to X-Ray?"

Charles nodded, "Yes, and you must make sure he gets immediate attention. What if he appears to be lucid?"

I thought for a moment, but I hadn't had much experience in diagnosing emergency cases. "Can he wait?"

"No. _Any_ injury to the head must be treated as urgent, whether the patient is unconscious, delirious, confused, or walking around talking to his comrades," said Charles. "Of course, in the case of Klinger here, it might be difficult to tell which of those applies anyway."

Klinger grinned, seemingly used to Charles' sarcasm. "I'll remind you that you said that, sir, the next time you enquire about access to the VIP tent," he retorted, winking at me.

"On the other hand," said Charles, who seemed completely unfazed by the cheeky way the Sergeant answered him back, "Klinger _is_ the company clerk, and as such is a valuable and esteemed member of the 4077th. So we must do what we can to save him, mustn't we?"

Klinger put his hands behind his head and smirked. "Want to cover the chest wound next, Major, or the arterial whatsit?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "Surprise me," he said, before beckoning me across to the medical chart he'd pinned to one of the tent poles.

"Want to mop up some of that blood first, Max?" I asked, handing him a sterile wipe to scrub the stuff off of his forehead.

"Well, if _you're_ not going to mop my fevered brow, I guess I might as well do it myself," he smiled.

"Klinger, stop distracting my class, or I'll put your nose in another sling," said Charles, folding his arms and frowning.

I hurried across to look at the charts, though I knew he wasn't really annoyed. I think Klinger realized it too. I was beginning to see that beneath the cheek and the sarcasm, these two actually got along, and respected one another despite their differences. I suspected though that the sun would turn to clinker before either of them would admit it.

"I really don't think you're paying enough attention, Lieutenant," said Charles, with a sigh. He glanced across the tent to make sure he couldn't be heard, and lowered his voice. "I think I'm going to have to give you a refresher in anatomy."

"Oh, good," I said, with a grin.

**To be continued**


	3. Chapter 5

**(As with Chapter 3, you can read this as is, or go to the other site for the PWP version which now includes Chapter 4)**

**Medical Complications - part 5**

It was just as well that Charles and I took advantage of the opportunities afforded us that night, because Hell came riding in next morning, right after the Colonel got back from the 8063rd, and stayed for several weeks.

Or was it months?

It felt like forever.

I don't know how the Doctors kept going. Just when you'd get one wave of pre-op patients down to a manageable number, another bus would arrive, or the helicopters would clatter in, or a couple ambulances would pull up in the compound. My boots were sticky with a mix of mud and blood, the autoclave broke down under the strain of continuous use so we had to use alcohol from the Still to sterilize the instruments, and 3 boys died without even making it out of Pre-Op. At least there were enough nurses that Major Houlihan could order one of us to take a break occasionally - every couple days, felt like - but the Doctors just had to go on and on. There wasn't even time for them to take bathroom breaks, and I knew the situation had become really serious when I helped Hawkeye urinate into a specimen bottle while he continued to put some kid's insides back together - and Captain Quip just thanked me!

The work wasn't finished either when we eventually got to emerge from OR. Post-Op was crammed full, and more cots had been set up temporarily in the Mess Tent. Any patients who could be moved were being shipped out as fast as the buses could carry them.

Klinger phoned someone named Sparky to establish what day it was, and of course it turned out to be my day for an early turn in Post-Op.

Hawkeye was in there doing the rounds, alternating vast yawns with his usual stupid banter, and boasts about his brilliant surgical skills.

"Course, it's not just surgery I'm good at," he confided to me, as I sat down at the duty station and picked up the notes which Major Houlihan had left there. The Captain came and sat on the edge of the desk and twittered on, apparently unconcerned that I was ignoring him. "What am I saying, 'good'? I'm terrific!" He leaned closer, and I threw the notes onto the table, folded my arms and looked up at him, hoping he could read the boredom in my expression. No such luck. ''Why do you think _I'm_ Chief Surgeon?"

"Gee, let me think... Because Major Winchester wasn't at the 4077th when you were appointed.'' It wasn't a question, and I could tell by the way his mouth pursed for a second that I'd annoyed him. I grinned. "That's what needles you about the Major, isn't it? If he'd been here instead of this Frank Burns I've heard about, _he'd_ be Chief Surgeon, not you."

Hawkeye snorted. "What annoys me about Charles is that he's pompous and arrogant."

I shook my head .in disbelief. "Arrogant? Have you ever listened to yourself, Captain Ego?"

''Then there's my natural wit and charm," he continued, as though I'd not spoken.

"Sorry, did you say 'witless smarm'?" I retorted.

"Not to mention my other attributes." He waggled his eyebrows, suggestively.

I rolled my eyes. "Trust me, Captain, your attributes are not _worth_ mentioning." I picked up the notes again and began to check through them before adding, wickedly, "If I can hold it in one hand, I'm not interested."

"Now _that_ was below the belt," he said, getting off of the desk. Praise be, seemed he'd finally taken the hint! "Guess I'll just have to find someone else to love."

He went for a wander around, turning a deaf ear to my observation that he was so much in love with himself there'd never be room for anyone else in his heart. At least Charles was only arrogant about his abilities as a surgeon, he didn't assume he was God's gift to women, as Hawkeye did.

Yep - Charles was the one with the _genuine_ charm.

-

Over the next few days, I noticed too how he fretted over one of the men he'd operated on. The guy had taken some shrapnel near the bowel, and there was serious risk of infection. But even so, I was a little surprised to see how much extra time Charles put in to monitoring his condition - and how conscientious he was too in checking on all the patients, when he was on duty in Post-Op.

The Charles Winchester I'd known in Tokyo wouldn't have spent that much time on the Wards, that was for sure. I didn't say anything to him, since I doubt he was even aware that he'd changed. But I liked what I saw. I thought it made him even sexier, and once most of the patients had been discharged, and the camp had gotten back to what passed for normal, I wasted no time in demonstrating that to him.

-

The weeks passed, and although there was no chance of developing a routine, given that no two days were the same, we did manage to fall into kind of a pattern. Casualties would arrive, get patched up, get nursed back to health and leave. Once they'd gone, and assuming another wave of wounded hadn't arrived, Charles and I would find somewhere to play out our rage and frustration and lust and passion and sheer _need_ to demonstrate to ourselves that we were still alive and able to _feel_. Living daily with death, or the threat of it, does that to you. There's no room for dancing around the niceties. You just don't need them.

Mostly we had to make do with a spare mattress in the Supply Room, occasional forays into the VIP tent, or snatched moments in The Swamp. But after I'd assisted Charles in OR while he rerouted and exteriorized a colon (using a technique that was new to me) the Colonel presented us with two nights together in Seoul. Not that that was the way the Colonel regarded it, I'm sure. He just needed a surgeon and a nurse to show that new procedure to the Doctors at the Military Hospital. I guess Potter chose Charles because of his experience in demonstrating new surgical techniques. I wasn't sure why Major Houlihan had recommended that I be the accompanying nurse, but this was one assignment I had _no_ complaints about.

-

As I was packing my bag, and wishing I had something a little more romantic than khaki to slip into, there was a knock on the door and Klinger sidled in.

"Cinderella, you _shall_ go to the Ball!" he announced, without preamble. And from behind his back, he produced an exquisite little negligée, all sheer material and black lace.

"Why… where… it's beautiful!" I managed, once I'd gotten over the surprise. "Does this mean the Major wasn't kidding me when he told me you used to wear dresses?"

"It's true," said Klinger, looking kinda wistful. "You shoulda seen my blue satin number with matching purse and shoes. But I gave it up as a lost cause when I was dumb enough to start getting commendations noted on my file." He held up the negligée with a sigh. "So it's goodbye to all this. But it'll look better on you anyway."

"Thank you, Max, I really appreciate it," I said, taking the garment from him. Then, curious, "So how'd you get your commendations, if you weren't looking for them?"

He shrugged. "Helped the Father get some penicillin once, and ended up getting shot at. Then the Major went and commended me for helping him out with some Greek soldiers who needed medical attention miles from anywhere. Well – not exactly miles as it turned out, but anyway… I didn't do anything I wanted a Scout Badge for. I wanted to get _out _of the army!"

"And here you've ended up a Sergeant." I brandished the negligée. "With a magic wand!"

"Just make sure you're home before midnight," he laughed, as he went out. "Oh. Jeep'll be ready in five minutes."

Major Houlihan was waiting by the jeep as I handed my bag to the driver. "Remember you're representing the best MASH Unit _anywhere_," she said to me, pulling my hat a little straighter.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Remember when to salute, remember to call the Major 'sir' – and don't forget that making physical contact with a superior officer is against regulations!" She suddenly grinned and winked at me, and I realized she had known exactly what she was doing when she selected me to accompany Charles on this trip.

I could have hugged her for it, but settled for giving her a salute and a broad smile instead. "Don't worry, Major. There won't be anything there that I can't handle," I replied, and climbed into the jeep while she tried very hard not to laugh.

A few moments later, we were on the road to Seoul.


	4. Chapter 9

**As with previous chapters, you can read this as is, or go to the other site for the PWP version which now includes Chapters 6, 7 and 8)**

I remember exactly when I first admitted to myself that, despite all those promises to myself, I had fallen in love with Charles. I'd come out of the shower on the morning we were due to drive back to the 4077th, and he was fast asleep, his head cradled on one arm, and a sweet, almost childlike smile on his face. He was probably dreaming of home, I guessed, and it pained me to wake him. That was when I realized that things had gotten complicated.

Or at least, my feelings had. I wasn't going to kid myself that Charles loved me and even if he did, a Winchester would never marry a girl like me. Much as he enjoyed our adventures in the sack, it wasn't really supposed to be something that 'nice girls' did, was it? And Charles, I was sure, would be expected to marry a 'nice girl'.

So I kept my feelings to myself, not wanting to scare him off of seeing me, and once we were back at the 4077th, we returned to the same routine: blood, guts, bandages, drips, bad coffee, great sex, not necessarily in that order.

Until one morning I woke up with a terrible pain in my gut. I threw up, and the pain eased some, but over the next few days it returned as the most atrocious case of heartburn I'd ever had. I felt sick when I ate – not that that was new where the 4077th food was concerned, and I worried that I might be pregnant, but my period arrived on schedule, thank God. The indigestion kind of came and went, and I kept making guesses about why – the terrible food, perhaps, or a virus of some kind. Like all the doctors I know, I make a lousy patient, so I didn't mention it to anyone else, not even Charles. But when I dropped a glass of brandy on the OC bar and doubled up holding my stomach, I couldn't really disguise the fact that I was in agony. And as I was flanked and outranked by two doctors, the Colonel on one side, and Charles on the other, I couldn't argue when they each grabbed an arm and helped me across the compound to the hospital.

The Colonel quizzed me while he busied himself setting up the X-Ray equipment, and Charles started checking me over – totally professionally this time, except for one moment when he stood between me and the Colonel's line of sight and mouthed "Are you pregnant?"

I shook my head. "No. It's not that."

He looked relieved, as well he might, and gave me a sheepish smile that made my heart do a little flip. Good thing he wasn't taking my pulse at the time.

Anyways, they did the X-Rays and followed up with some blood tests and stuff, and after a couple days the results came back: I had a duodenal ulcer.

While it wasn't the automatic medical discharge it once would have been, it was certainly the end of my time at the 4077th.

"Congratulations," said the Colonel, when he called me into his office to tell me the news, "You're on your way back to Tokyo. They'll be able to sort you out just fine, and before you know it, you'll be well enough to get posted to another unit." He gave me a wink. "So if you've got any sense, and I'm sure you have, _don't_ keep taking the tablets!"

It was all meant kindly, bless him, but all I could think of was that I wouldn't see Charles again.

"I... uh... would I be able to come back here again, sir? When I'm fit again, I mean?" I asked. I was trying to think up a good reason why I would want to, but the Colonel didn't appear to notice. "Be glad to have you," he said, "But between the brass and the bureaucracy, it doesn't usually work like that. You get yourself better, if you _really_ want to get back into this stupid war, and we'll see what happens. The important thing now is getting you to Tokyo, pronto." He looked over my shoulder and yelled; "Klinger!"

"You bellowed, sir?" said the sergeant, as he came through the door.

"That helicopter here yet?"

"No sir, but it shouldn't be too much longer," said Klinger, "They told me half-an-hour, and that was forty minutes ago."

"Well, get on the blower, see where it's got to." Dismissing the sergeant, Potter returned his attention to me. "Got you a ride to the 121st evac, you can catch a flight to Tokyo from there tomorrow morning," he said, and smiled. "You'd better go get your things together!"

"Yes sir. I mean... thank you, sir." I was stunned by the suddenness of it all. I wasn't even sure where Charles was at that moment, let alone whether I could sneak five minutes alone with him to say goodbye.

The Colonel came around the desk and patted me on the shoulder, said something about me being missed, but I wasn't really listening. As I passed through the outer office, Klinger, without even pausing in his phone conversation, handed me a sheet of paper. It was that day's duty roster, and it showed that Charles would be in the Lab doing some blood tests. I gave Klinger a hug, and he gave me a knowing smirk and presented his cheek for a kiss. I obliged, and went straight to the Lab.

Charles was peering into a microscope and didn't even glance up at first.

"Did you know the results came through?" I said, going over to him and leaning on the counter top beside him. "It's confirmed. My ulcer, I mean. I have to go back to Tokyo."

He looked up, met my gaze with those beautiful sky-blue eyes, and gave me a sad little smile. "How I do envy you," he said. "I'd give..." there was the briefest hesitation "..._almost_ anything to get back to civilization." His smile reached his eyes as he added: "You'll have to leave me your diet sheet, I'm obviously not eating badly enough." With a quick glance around to make sure there was no-one else nearby, he gave me a swift kiss and said, "We should celebrate your good fortune in style before you leave. I have a bottle of..."

He stopped when I rested my fingers over his mouth. "We don't have time," I said, not quite succeeding in keeping the emotional tremor out of my voice, "The Colonel's got a chopper on the way to take me to the 121st. I... I have to go pack."

"_Now_?" Charles looked astonished and, I like to think, a little upset. "Oh. Well, isn't that just like the Colonel, always looking out for his staff's best interests."

I wasn't sure whether he was being sarcastic or sincere. Perhaps it was both. In any case I could think of nothing else to say except, "I'll miss you."

"And I will miss you too," he said. He kissed my hand, then my cheek, finally my lips, and for an all-too-brief moment I clung to him, wanting to stay there in his arms, wanting him not to let me go.

But it was me who broke the kiss and backed away, scared of what I was feeling for him, afraid that if I didn't leave right then I never would. "I have to go," I managed; then I was out the door.

-

I was surprised by how many of the 4077th had found their way to the chopper pad to see me off. After I'd handed my bags to the pilot, I turned to get hugs from the Colonel, BJ, Kellye and the nurses from my watch, even Hawkeye. But it wasn't till I climbed into the helicopter that Charles appeared. Ducking under the down-draft from the blades, he handed me a leather-bound book, gave me another quick kiss on the cheek, and stepped away. I couldn't see what the title of the book was, my vision was blurred, so I waved and said "Thank you" and then, in a moment of sheer 'now or never' recklessness, I shouted "I think I love you!"

And over the noise of the helicopter engine I heard him call back, "And I'll think of you too!"

-

We were halfway to the 121st before I could see straight enough to see the book he'd given me. It was a volume of poetry, Rupert Brooke to be exact. One of my favorites, though I hadn't expected Charles to remember that.

On the flyleaf, he'd written a brief quote from one of Oscar Wilde's plays, and a message: 'Emma '_Men can be analyzed, women... merely adored'. _If ever you're in Boston, look me up.'

And do you know... maybe I will.


End file.
